A Long, Long Way
by Umecha
Summary: This world is a peaceful one, where everyone seems to be living together normally. It's nothing but a cruel joke to Vector, who remembers everything, and has no idea why he's there.
1. Resurrection

It was a miracle Vector had stayed conscious.

Don Thousand may have meddled in his past and stolen his powers, but Vector would never be anything but himself. He wouldn't dare forget, even as his soul was mercilessly battered by Chaos and shredded to pieces. He thought a hundred times just how easy it would be to let himself dissolve away, but there was absolutely no way he'd die like that. It took a while- how long it was he didn't know, for what was time in the middle of a soul anyway?- but he managed to sew himself back together until there was enough of him in one place for him to say with certainty that he'd be laying off the cannibal jokes for a while. Being atomized and crudely digested was a terrible experience and seeing his fellow Emperors frown wouldn't be worth the reminder.

At least he could be bitterly comforted with the thought that he was too stubborn for Don Thousand to fully consume. Take that, you damn meddlesome God!

Still, he had to keep murmuring to himself to remind himself that he was Vector, the Barian Lord, the old Prince of Madness- anything to keep his memory solid. It had taken enough effort to stitch his soul into a tattered mess, and forgetting his identity for even a single moment would weaken his resolve and send the pieces floating away.

"Shingetsu!"

Hah, Vector grimly thought, it seemed that his mind was playing tricks on him even in this hell. Was consuming him not enough for Don Thousand? Was his soul now going to be prodded with horrible memories? No thanks.

"Shingetsu! Hey!"

It was suddenly too light, this wasn't the red hell of Don Thousand's soul, this was- he knew this place.

The tacky yellow desks and lime green benches of Heartland Academy stood plainly before his eyes, in the same infuriatingly neon he remembered them. He blinked his eyes- he had those now, and looked down at his hands. One, two, yes, all of his fingers were moving. He quickly glanced at one of the large windows, and his scrawny human form stared back at him, eyes far wider in bewilderment than he'd care to admit.

He turned his head, and Yuma was right there, staring eagerly at him. Vector definitely didn't yelp in surprise, because that would be completely and utterly beneath him.

"You were napping really hard! I thought you'd never wake up!"

Napping? If he could call his soul getting dissolved a short nap, that would be the life.

Yuma was there, along with his band of squabbling friends, and the way they were smiling told him quickly that he hadn't showed himself to be a Barian just yet. Had he been thrown back in time, or was this some sort of sadistic dream? "I guess I was more tired than I thought," he quickly lied, slipping into his Shingetsu voice, "I'm okay now, though."

"Great, because you promised to duel me after class!"

Nope. If he had to play happy go lucky lovely and marvelous friends once again, he was going to bash his head against the wall until he lost consciousness. Maybe then he'd be absorbed properly instead of floating around in space as a pile of half-digested scrap meat.

"Which deck are you going to use this time? No wait, don't tell me! I'll beat you either way!"

Which deck? What was he talking about? Oh, maybe Yuma meant the Shining deck that he used with his disguise. Still, the temptation to have Masquerade Umbral formally crush Yuma this time around was _pretty_ alluring. He supposed he could play along with this delusion for a bit, if it meant he could see Yuma grimace in frustration for a while.

He gleefully agreed, but the moment he drew his hand, Vector quickly knew something was wrong. Constellar…Pleiades? He'd never seen that monster before in his entire life. He wasn't going to complain too much, it seemed like a pretty decent card, but aside from Shining Bridge lying against his pinky, there wasn't a single card in his hand he recognized.

Still, they turned out to be really, _really _good_. _It would have been way more satisfying for his Numbers to be the one to knock Yuma into the nearest wall, but watching Constellar Ptolemys blast Yuma's life points down to nothing was such a treat.

Yet, despite completely crushing Yuma with ease, he felt disappointed he wasn't able to at least destroy Hope, which now that Vector had the time to think about it, hadn't shown up in the entirety of the duel. Yuma couldn't last a single duel, much less a single turn without itching to summon Hope, so why hadn't he tried? Now that Vector took a good look at Yuma, the golden necklace always clinging to Yuma's chest was missing.

When Yuma came over, still grinning and laughing, forever annoyingly unperturbed by losing, Vector quickly donned his usual high-pitched fake voice to ask where Yuma's Key was.

"What Key? Come on, Shingetsu, I haven't forgotten my house keys just yet! I don't need to turn them into a necklace, see?" Yuma jangled the set of keys at his waist, but didn't produce the Emperor's Key.

If Vector knew anything about Yuma, it was that he was an optimistic idiot that couldn't lie to save his life. Come to think about it, Astral didn't emerge once during the duel either, and if Yuma didn't have his Numbers, did that mean that the Barians won?

Vector wasn't sure which prospect was worse, Yuma getting his hands on the Numeron Code or Nasch doing so, but he hardly had time to grumble before the rest of Yuma's little group swarmed them both with idle chatter. He quietly excused himself from the all too familiar babble, breaking into a dash the moment he was out of sight. If he remembered correctly, the roof usually didn't have this many people this time of day. The silence that greeted him let him relax a little; here he could be as loud as he wanted.

He had two deck boxes at his waist, so he rifled through them both, just to be sure. The first deck was the one he used to trash Yuma- a nice deck, he should have invested in these cards to begin with- but the moment he saw the familiar text of his Umbrals in the second deck, he breathed a sigh of relief. The first card he spotted was Umbral Unform, then Will o' the Wisp, Ghoul-

He froze. Where was Masquerade Shining? Or Umbral? He reshuffled the deck again and spread them all out so he could see them all at once. Maybe they were defeated along with Don Thousand, but there was no Judge Buster either. He'd had that card since he was a kid, right? So why wasn't it there? No Numbers of any kind, only the dull browns and muted blacks of normal cards.

His hand flashed to his neck, but he couldn't feel the red marble of Baria Lapis he always kept beneath his collar. His limbs went cold at the thought; no Baria Lapis, no easy Bariaphose. He tried concentrating hard to see if maybe he could recraft the large lapis on his chest, but all it ended up doing was make him lightheaded.

A mad laugh slipped past his lips as he slapped the cards aside. If this was a joke, it wasn't very funny. "Hey!" He shouted up at the clouds. "Don Thousand! You can hear me right, you damn pesky god! Is this what it's like in your disgusting stomach? Get me out of here before I kick my way out!"

There was no answer, no matter how hard Vector glared at the sky.

He closed his eyes, sitting down trying to feel the strands of energy that flowed across the world, the pink threads of Chaos that sustained the Barians. There wasn't much in the human world, but there was always an undercurrent of Chaos, like a river flowing underneath a tunnel. Don Thousand had lived alongside his heart for quite some time, enough that Vector knew it was literally impossible for him to be around without dragging a noxious trail behind him. The damn bastard couldn't clean up after himself, but there wasn't a single trace of Chaos in this world. If time had been turned back, then he'd been able to feel a few strands of Chaos, but no, nothing.

Vector wouldn't admit he shivered, but his body twitched a bit. Yeah, it was probably just a spasm.

He sucked in a gulp of air and started to slowly collecting his scattered cards. He could feel his lips turning down, with every passing thought. No Chaos meant no Don Thousand, so the Barian god had likely been purged. Good riddance, ridiculous good-for-nothing meddler. No Emperor's Key, no Astral, no Chaos, no Numbers, no Baria Lapis; none of that meant he'd been dumped in someplace completely changed, or different as a whole. He took one look at his Umbrals before stuffing them back in his deck box with a huff.

Speaking of Chaos, where were those so-called comrades of his? As much as he hated to go seek them out, there was a chance one of them could know a little more than he did, and talking to them was slightly better than screaming at the sky. Alit and Gilag, if they had been revived too, usually hung around the school grounds, and even jokes of pawns might have some basic information.

He couldn't tear open the Overlay Network, or even feel where one of its entrances might be, so that meant he had to hike all the way to the duo's worn down hideout. Aah, what a pain, those other Emperors were nothing but trouble.

He'd only just stepped downstairs when he caught a familiar flash of long blonde hair, and his eyes widened in surprise. He had to rub his eyes and pinch his cheeks to make sure he wasn't hallucinating, but that was definitely Mizael and Durbe coming down the hall. What were they doing here? Was Mizael actually wearing one of those god-awful school uniforms without complaint? Was Durbe not only alive, but also in the human world for once instead of peering through one of his prying crystals? Something huge had to happen for them both to be here and in those horrible disguises.

He bounded up to them, waving his arms eagerly like the simpleton Shingetsu would have done. "Miza-chwaaaaan! Durbe!"

Mizael grimaced quite visibly, that at least Vector recognized. In a world where everyone seemed to be smiling excessively, seeing Mizael's angry face was a small relief. "What?" the blonde asked in a strained voice.

"All for the sake of the Barian world, right?"

Durbe gave him a confused look, one that he'd never have given in response to those words. Durbe was the most dedicated to the Barian cause, and he'd never abandon it, even if Nasch pouted at him really hard.

He- really didn't know anything, did he?

Vector needed an excuse and fast. Durbe wasn't a gossiper, but he could easily send Vector to the counselor's office if he wasn't careful enough. Mizael- well, Mizael was about as subtle as a freight train. He spotted a stack of folders in Durbe's hands, clipped with the term 'Writing Club'. "Do you like it? It's the title for my new story!"

Durbe's confused expression vanished instantly. "It's a bit long, you might want to consider shortening it."

"Okay! Hey, Durbe, do you think you can look it over when I'm done with it?"

"If I have time, I don't see why not."

Mizael shot a glare at Vector and dragged Durbe away after insisting they had things to do and for the first time, Vector wasn't sure if he wanted them to go so soon. Neither of them remembered their desire to save the Barian World, or even that it existed. If it existed anymore, that is.

Vector kicked at an eraser forgotten on the floor, idly watching it hit the wall. He didn't want to save the Barian World, but if it was going to be destroyed, he'd at least have liked a confirmation beforehand, or have crushed it himself. No Chaos in the human world meant no portals to the Barian World. No Barian World meant no place to escape to, leaving him tethered to the human plane. A Barian that couldn't transform, and was without powers or Numbers to call his own was no better than human. Repulsive, absolutely repulsive!

In the distance, he spotted a head of purple-pronged hair that made him grit his teeth until his gums groaned from the pressure. _Nasch_- he'd know that irritating presence anywhere.

Durbe had died by Vector's hands, and he hadn't the slightest clue where Mizael was before Don Thousand swallowed him whole, but Nasch was at the very least alive to fight Don Thousand. Out of everyone, he'd be the most qualified to answer Vector's questions, at least if Vector didn't choke on his own vomit first. Unclenching his fists, he skipped towards Nasch with a pleasant smile. Nasch didn't even see him coming, this was the perfect opportunity for a surprise right hook, but no, Shingetsu Rei wouldn't dare do something like that. "Oi, Nasch!"

Nasch didn't turn around. Not even a twitch of a reaction, typical Nasch.

Vector put on put on his most daring smile and flicked his enemy's shoulder. "Hey, Nasch. You trying to ignore me?"

Nasch turned around and frowned at him, but it wasn't nearly as deep of a frown as Vector expected. "Stop calling me that, okay? It was a dumb nickname, get over it. Playing make-believe was fun, all right? But we were kids, so don't bring that up, it's embarrassing."

…Huh? It took all Vector's willpower to not let his mouth drop open. "Hey, Nasch, what are you talking about-"

"I told you before, I'm busy. I'll talk to you later, Rio's waiting on me."

Vector was left standing stunned in the hall, his eyes wide and his mouth dry. What… was that, anyway? Some sort of sick joke? He sucked in a deep breath and slapped both his cheeks, hard. Okay, Vector, you've gotten out of much worse before. The least he could do was think of how to get out of this mad situation.

Somehow, he had learned a little more when talking to Nasch. Miracle Nasch managed to teach him anything, but Nasch seems to be less annoying in this place than when he wore that stupid cape and sat on that dumb throne. Just the thought made Vector simmer with rage- he'd have his hands around Nasch's throat at any cost.

His wave of homicidal glee quickly bubbled down into disappointment. This Nasch- was it his Nasch? Consummate liars could pick out lies with ease, for something, from a twitch of the nose to a flicker with the eyes, would always give them away. Nasch, filthy, ridiculous, heinous Nasch didn't even seem slightly untruthful; more annoyed if anything.

**Annoyed**. That was unimaginable for the Barian leader; Vector had half expected Nasch to draw his fist back and slam it into his face, or maybe knock Vector down and try strangling him. No matter how badly Yuma got to Nasch's inner human sympathies, he couldn't so easily get rid of his hatred like that.

Still, Nasch mentioned being childhood friends, and Vector had to clap his hands over his mouth and bite his fingers to stop him from bursting into laughter. Him and Nasch, childhood friends? Yeah, he wasn't so far gone to think that trying to actively murder Nasch was an act of friendship. When he was still a bright eyed and optimistic prince, he admitted that the thought of befriending a neighboring king sounded like a nice prospect, but that was all it was- a prospect. Holding hands and laughing over vapid stories? Hah, the thought made him sick. A wave of bile hit his throat, and Vector quickly dashed to the water fountain to wash his mouth out.

Something had clearly changed everyone's thinking but his own, something crazy powerful enough for Durbe and Mizael to forget that Barian World existed, if it existed, and for Nasch to think they'd been friendly as children. The immense amount of power to rewrite history could only be the power of the Numeron Code, but clearly that power was imperfect.

After all, he still remembered being Vector, and no sort of complete reset could possibly leave any loose strings hanging. Everyone can't be this happy and pathetically normal. Was this _really_ the world after being rewritten by the Numeron Code? No, that couldn't be, he still remembered absolutely everything; the only one who remembered absolutely everything.

No, no, no, no, they wouldn't be that cruel, it couldn't be, this _had_ to be someplace completely different. He wouldn't let it be a rewritten universe.

This was a different world.

That was the only explanation, he _had_ to have been dropped in someplace similar but completely different, into the body of the Shingetsu Rei that had lived in this absurd world. They dropped him in here to punish him, they dropped him in here to die, without an Overlay Network to escape on.

Vector chewed on his lip, tearing skin away until he bled. Good luck with that. He wouldn't let all these cheerful smiles sweep him away. No, he'd stay alive just to show them all.


	2. Death

After being roped into trigonometry by Yuma, he had no desire to go to any of his later classes. Vector had taken one look at the problems and quickly gave up. He didn't understand any of it at all, it was all useless figures on a piece of paper. He hadn't really paid attention in his classes while he was faking to be Yuma's friend, and any homework could be marked with full points with one flash of Limited Barian's Force.

What was up with these worthless human problems?

He'd taken to wandering aimlessly through the halls, his own thoughts clogging up his head. He felt cold, numb and so, so confused.

"Hey! There you are!" He hardly had time to react before something hit him in the back, sending him stumbling forward, before he could fall, an arm snapped around him and yanked him back up. He had an insult prepared on his tongue before he saw Alit's huge grin. "Come on, everyone's waiting. Finally skipping class, are you? I knew you had it in you!"

Vector would have protested, but he couldn't break out of Alit's grip and was forcefully dragged down the hall to a large table where all the Emperors sans Nasch and Merag sat in their school uniforms, chatting amongst each other. So they were all human too, and still managed to find each other, Vector mused to himself. They seemed to perk up at the two of arriving, and smiled at them both.

After being hauled quite literally into a chair and slapped hard on the back by Gilag, Vector suddenly found himself pummeled with Alit's rapid fire complaints about the unfairness of detention. Everyone was exchanging pleasant banter, sometimes even turning to Vector for input.

Hey… wasn't this really wrong? Weren't they supposed to be wondering about the fate of the three worlds? Why were they here discussing weekend plans? Shouldn't they be cursing him out? He looked at everyone at the table, and not a single person gave him a dirty look.

How genuine. How disgusting.

"So, karaoke Friday sounds good to you? Come on, you've got to say yes! We've got to outvote that downer Durbe!" Alit eagerly slung his arm around Vector's shoulders, giving him a friendly punch in the arm.

They're all here, all smiling and none of this is happy, none of this is good, stop it, stop it-

"Shut up."

Alit blinked in confusion, a smile still on his face. "Huh?"

"I said, _shut up." _

Everyone at the table stared at Vector, now sporting a horrific snarl on his face as his entire body trembled with rage. "Why are you being so nice to me? You hate me, don't you? All of you hate me! Yeah, that's right, all of you should. I did terrible things to all of you! There's absolutely no reason we we should be playing friends like this! Do you pity me or something?" He probably looked like a madman, but for some reason once he had started, he couldn't stop growing more and more hysterical. "Yeah, that can be the only reason why any of you would want to deal with me. You all want to laugh at me because I failed, right? I failed, and you're here to rub it in my face! Well, it worked, okay? So stop pitying me!"

Nobody spoke a single word. The silence was a perfect time for Vector to quickly take everything back, put on a smile and eagerly declare that he was just kidding all along, but he couldn't get the act on his face.

One of the chairs squeaked back, and Mizael stood up from his seat. He didn't seem to want to shove his hand through Vector's head, but there was a solemn sternness on his face that made Vector flinch slightly. "You're right. We should stop."

Alit opened his mouth to say something, but Mizael shook his head. "You always looked unhappy whenever we talked about Ryoga, so we thought we should try hanging out with you too. But I guess that was a bad idea. That's what we get for trying to work with childish ingrates."

"Mizael!" Durbe yelled, but the blonde didn't stop.

"Well? I thought you didn't want to be with us anymore. So why are you still standing around?"

Vector didn't need to be told twice. Before he knew it, he was running as fast as he could, he didn't care where, just anywhere, away from everyone and everything. He didn't know how long he ran, but he didn't stop until he couldn't see another person in sight. Nobody would find him under an empty underpass, so he crawled up the slanted ground off the road and huddled down until the metal of the bridge was sweeping his head.

"Who does Miza-chwan think he is, anyway?" Vector grumbled to himself, picking up a chipped piece of concrete and throwing it as far as he could. "Stupid, stupid dragon obsessed idiot! Good for nothing, worthless piece of imaginary trash! Ingrate, huh? How dare he! Of all things!"

He knew he shouldn't have broken character and yelled at them. It was useless yelling at something who didn't even remember, or didn't even know what he was talking about. Mizael was always a prideful egotist who spat out ugly words, but- but that he was…childish?

No, that's impossible. After all, Vector was a conquering king, one that took up the sword and plundered as many countries as he could get his hands on. As a Barian Emperor, he could manipulate whole families into full blown warfare to ruin each other's lives. Human, Astral, Barian, God alike, he was able to make them dance on his strings for a while. Could a child construct multilayered schemes so complex that not even his fellow Emperors could see the end of it? Could a child free a God with nothing but his own will?

And yet, somehow, despite reassuring himself, Vector didn't smile.

He heard the low hum of a motorcycle coming down the road, but he didn't look up. He'd stop throwing rocks for just a second, let them pass, and go back to thinking. It's not like he had anywhere to be.

The engine dulled down, and he heard a sharp, "Hey! Hey, you up there!" He looked up, spotting a tall woman standing with her arms crossed, glaring right at him. He recognized her from his days of pretending to be human, Yuma's journalist sister- Akara? Akari, that was it. "You're that Shingetsu boy Yuma's friends with, right? Get down here!"

He wasn't going to obey some stupid human woman, but he couldn't look too suspicious in front of adults, or else he'd be hauled away to some hospital somewhere. So much for being alone. He slid down to her and quickly switched his voice, "What are you doing all the way here?"

"What am I doing here? What are _you_ doing here?"

"I," think of a lie, think of a lie, "I had a fight with my friends."

"You've got to be kidding-" she let out a sigh, and shook her head, but eventually hopped back on her bike. "Come on, I'll take you home."

Home. Right. He had one of those.

He didn't argue and let her drive him wherever. He couldn't fly back to the Barian World, and he no longer had his Rank-Up cards to brainwash people into letting him live in abandoned houses. Home was the Barian World that he never cared about. Home was his crumbling castle for a past life that seemed like a faraway dream.

Akari stopped the motorcycle in front of a house he'd never seen before. She looked at him, so it must be the place where the him of this world lived. He thanked her and hesitantly opened the door, peeking inside. It was a hallway he hadn't seen before, and a staircase that lead upstairs to assumably the bedrooms. He wandered around the first floor, trying to take in as much detail as possible of this strange new place. He could hear the sink running and the salty scent of grilled fish hit his nose. He followed the sound until he found the kitchen, and spotted two people standing there that made his mouth clam up.

He'd recognize them anywhere, no matter how many centuries passed, from his mother's long hair and slender figure to his father's gruff air. They weren't wearing the royal dress he remembered, but that was so, so long ago, and they were both seamlessly relaxing here as if nothing had ever gone wrong.

His backpack must have fallen onto the floor, because his mother turned and smiled sweetly at him. "Oh, Rei, I didn't hear you come in. Well, don't just stand there, I made you some toast." She sounded exactly the same, full of life, her white dress without a drop of scarlet.

Clouds were clotting his head, letting him be lead thoughtlessly forward into the chair next to his father. A piece of mildly burnt toast was placed in front of him, and he looked back at the woman that served it, just in case he had mistaken her in profile. No, it was really her. What…was this? What sot of cruel joke was this?

His father didn't smile, even in this place. Vector would have said it was a relief, but he tossed that thought away the moment it came into his head. His father was always a stern man, cold, cruel and violent. It became suddenly hard for Vector to swallow his food.

"Rei."

His father's sudden voice snapped Vector out of his thoughts. "Yes?"

"I've been doing some thinking, and I think we need to have more father-son bonding time."

Vector hated to admit it, but he flinched even after all this time. Those words meant he did something his father didn't like. If Vector ever did something his father didn't like, no matter how small, he'd be dragged aside and beaten until he apologized. His father was the king, after all, so all of the servants would turn a blind eye to it, and pretend it wasn't happening. Sometimes, when he was tired of hitting Vector, he'd get some of the servants to kick him instead. After a while, it wouldn't even matter if Vector covered the bruises up with jewelry, he still wouldn't be fit enough to give speeches to the public.

But here his father was no king. The neighbor's house was close by, and they'd easily hear Vector if he started crying, so maybe his father was planning to take him into the basement and beat him there. Well, Vector grimly thought, if his father hit him on the head or kicked him in the hips, then Vector's school uniform would cover up most of the bruising, even if he went swimming.

Vector tried his hardest not to sigh, but all that came out of his mouth was a dejected, "Yes."

"I figured we could go out and have ramen at that new stand that's getting popular. You don't have plans this weekend, do you?"

"Uh…no. No, I don't."

"Good, I thought you'd take the weekend to see that Tsukumo boy. Maybe you've finally given the Kamishiros a break!" He let out a hearty laugh, and his mother chimed in with a light chuckle.

Vector sat there stunned. Never in his entire life had he heard his father laugh so jollily, not even when he'd come back raving drunk with tales of conquest. His father could be lying just like the rest of them- no, his father was never that kind of man. Rather than slowly toying with Vector, he'd take the straightforward route and slam his son's head against the wall.

He reached and touched his father's shoulder, feeling the curve of flesh under his palm.

Real. Actually real.

He suddenly excused himself, saying he'd finish his snack later, and dashed upstairs to the room marked with Shingetsu's name. He slammed and locked the door behind him, and flung himself onto the bed.

"This isn't real, this isn't real," he kept muttering to himself. These weren't his parents, they were the parents of the Shingetsu that lived here. There's no way his mother would laugh along with his father's jokes, and there's no way his father would look so jolly. They weren't his parents, they were just someone else's, someone else's, his parents were buried in a dim, forgotten graveyard somewhere far away…

He'd been humiliated a thousand times under Nasch's rule, but this- this was the absolute worst. He didn't have his Numbers and he couldn't even transform. He couldn't even travel back to the nonexistent Barian World, and his parents were alive. Before he knew it, he felt like he'd swallowed a lump of lead, and he dug his fingernails into the bedsheets, biting down hard on the pillow. The great and powerful Barian Lord Vector, cried until he'd run out of tears, and denied every moment of it.

His reflection in the mirror was just like he remembered it, but he looked so pathetic and tired. The skin underneath his eyes were already dark and ringed, so splotchy, ugly and human. He tugged them down, watching the redness of his eyelids with an apathetic melancholy before dropping back onto his bed.

Human, huh?

He couldn't push away the uneasiness in his chest, his heart of sinew and not pink rock thudding dully against his ribcage. Worst case scenario, go. What if, by some cruel roll of the dice, he was stuck in this hell forever? He looked at his hands, fleshy, granite marks rubbed against his pinkies from smudging pencil on paper, wholly human. These were his hands now, the hands of a young human boy struggling through trigonometry problems and sporting a strong deck. How ordinary.

Yeah, that's right. Ordinary, an normal human without royal blood or a powerful title.

Back where he was a Barian, Vector was real and 'Shingetsu Rei' was make-believe, but here it was just the opposite. In this place, Shingetsu Rei was real and 'Vector' was nothing but a childish fantasy. So where exactly did that leave him? He was Vector, and he was definitely a real person, but everyone else in this place only knew 'Vector' as a character in a story told by five year olds. But he was real. He wasn't some prince in a story- wait, he _was_ technically a prince in a story, but that all actually happened, he was just a couple centuries old, that's all.

So in a place where everyone acknowledged 'Vector' as fake, how was he going to exist?

Ah. Nothing had changed. He was no longer being battered to pieces, but he was still fighting for his life. If he forgot who he was, who Vector was, then he'd truly die. Here Vector was reduced to nothing more than an idea, and the only way to kill an idea is for him to forget 'Vector' ever existed. If an idea is spread to many people, it lives on, but here, nobody else would possibly believe him. The burden of his own existence was a sin he had to bear by himself, just like always.

Nothing changed.

Maybe this place was really nice. He didn't have to work at warding off glares or forgive him for the horrors he committed, and everyone seemed to get along really well. It wasn't _impossible_ for him to live like this in peace, scrub his hatred down a little bit, and enjoy the silence.

…He didn't want to be happy with this. He couldn't let himself be satisfied with such a strange world, but the very least he could do is make himself comfortable in this prison. Tomorrow he'd go apologize to Mizael and the rest of them, and maybe Durbe could teach him some math. He'd ask his parents for a bento to take to school tomorrow, and he could eat it together with Yuma and all his friends.

Ahh, he was in hell.


	3. Life

Two million, six hundred and fifty six thousand, and eight hundred seconds.

Two million, six hundred and fifty six thousand, and eight hundred seconds of failure.

He could have shortened the seconds into days or weeks, but seconds seemed much more fitting.

The moment he left that everyday prison of a school, he'd go and run around the whole city to find a tear in the Overlay Network, some place where the energy boundary was a little weak, but he couldn't find a single point. He'd even found and begged that irritable Tenjo boy to let him look at his star charts, but there was only one sun in the sky.

Sometimes he'd stare at his Umbral deck so he could imagine his black wings unfurling themselves again, but it was only a farce if he couldn't actually play with his old deck- well, not without being completely thrashed that is. Numbers can only be destroyed by Numbers, and his Umbral deck was severely lacking without his Masquerades, preset plans and Don Thousand's magic. Shingetsu Rei's deck was powerful and bright, smothering the weakening shadow of his Umbrals.

He missed the old days of counting a hundred million points. Back then he could hate without care, hate something that actually existed. He'd found out the story Rei and Ryoga created long ago from Durbe, between hours of pointless conversation. It was crude, as expected for a story invented by childish brats, one with two princes crossing swords with each other. Vector the scheming, Vector the wicked, Vector the make-believe. The more he learned, the worse his headaches would get.

At this rate, he didn't have much time before the Barian Lord Vector would be lost forever.

"Rei!" His mother's voice drifted up from downstairs. "Come on down, I got you a snack!"

It was late in the day, and he could see the clouds growing redder by the minute. The last time he ate was noon, and this damn human body would always grumble and groan if it didn't constantly get sustenance. The quicker he left his boring schoolwork behind, the better.

Snack was a baumkuchen, round and round.

"By the way, your friend's on the phone."

Friends? He didn't have friends, only Rei had friends. "Why aren't they calling me on my D-Gazer?"

"You can ask your friend that when you pick up the phone." There was a firmness in her voice, but she still smiled as she held the phone out to him. Didn't even give him much of a choice, huh? Well, this was the woman who orchestrated his rise into power the moment his father was out of the picture. He never had time to think about it, but she was always like that.

Scheming from his mother and violence from his father, was it? He really wasn't born out of nowhere, after all.

The phone was cold and unfamiliar in his hand. "Hello?"

"Rei, it's Rio."

Just what he needed, Merag, with her shrill voice and all. Using a landline of all things, so it wasn't as if he could just walk away and pretend to be listening to her. Aah, what a pain. Still, he had to act somewhat cordially to her- at least she wasn't able to see the range of disgusted faces he was making.

"Ryoga told me that you've been calling him 'Nasch' a lot lately."

She spoke so familiarly to him. If these two were calling him by his first name without honorifics, then the him of this place was definitely close with them. Might as well go along with it. "It was an accident."

"I don't think this accident would have happened consistently for a month." Ugh, Merag, always stringing up ugly conclusions.

"Don't worry about it, Mera-" He held his tongue. Don't say it, don't say it.

"You were about to say 'Merag', weren't you?"

"Nope! You're looking into things a li-ittle too much!"

"Rei," she said in that icy voice that always made Vector want to strangle her. "Don't lie to me."

"Why are you calling me?" He regretted it the moment he said it, slipping out of a role was so unprofessional. Ugh, those two, always throwing a wrench into his plans, messing everything up-

"I'm sorry." He nearly dropped the phone, but he was gripping it too tightly in his hand to actually make that mistake. "And I'm sure Ryoga is too, but you know him, he'll never call."

Yeah, that's right. Sorry for existing, and ruining all of his fun. Sorry for being gratingly annoying, no matter what. Sorry for constantly reminding him how he could never properly enjoy himself without them always acting as an emergency brake. Sorry for living, sorry for trying so had, sorry for not dying when he wanted them to. He wanted to shout them all out to her, but all that came out was a hollow, "Sorry for what?"

"You know, Ryoga and I have been practicing for the Asia Championships in a month, and we've been pushing you aside, haven't we? We thought you would have been fine hanging out with Yuma all the time, but I guess we were wrong." She wasn't speaking to Vector, those words were for Shingetsu Rei, the only person in the world who would be sad about not being around these two brats. But somehow, even knowing that, Vector stayed his tongue and listened.

"Listen, Ryoga and I aren't going to drop out of the tournament. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do. After all, you two don't ever stop with something once you put your mind to it." He was disappointed with himself for not making it nearly as malicious as he could have wanted.

"That's right. So we're still going to be busy. But after the tournament's over, we'll come over and Ryoga will bring the nabe pot and we'll all have dinner together."

Over the line, he heard Nasch groan, "I'm not doing the heavy lifting!" to which Merag replied with a sharp, "You're carrying it and you're going to enjoy it!" before returning to the phone. "How does that sound?" she asked, and he could just feel her smile through the line.

"I guess it's okay."

"Great!" She gave him some bland parting words, he wasn't really paying attention, until the line went dead.

He cut into the baumkuchen, but it tasted plainer than usual.

Plain, this world was plain, and he was losing his color to the blandness.

He threw his fork down, quickly giving some excuse of having to meet someone somewhere before dashing out the door. As if he'd let himself die without exhausting every possible option he had. He'd searched all over the city for portals or strands of Chaos, but there was one last place he hadn't checked yet. Heartland Academy wasn't open this late, but this was his final chance, security be damned. He never had enough time to pick the gym closet lock during school hours, but without any prying eyes, he had all the time he needed.

The moment the door clicked open, he started to run his hands along the walls of the hideout to find even the weakest of threads. Alit and Gilag had used this place so often, there had to be even a faint link to the Barian World or anywhere that wasn't here somewhere. Even if the whole city was devoid of Chaos, there had to be something here, there just had to be. He checked under the crate of basketballs, behind the mirrors and boxes, and even shoved his hands into the dusty corners. Nothing, useless, useless, useless…

Vector was dusty, dirty, and disgusting from his search, but he still heaved the TV out of the way and put his hands on the wall. Cold paint and uneven surfacing met his palms, but not a single thread of Chaos. He leaned in further, trying to get a better reach when a jolt of energy shot through him. It nearly made him stumble back, but there was definitely something there. He shifted his body, trying to get a better feel of it, but it was gone the moment he moved.

"No, come on, come on," he cried, frantically dragging his nails across the wall. "Come back, don't go-" No matter where his nails met paint, he couldn't feel the same jolt of energy. The brown paint was coming off in strips, but he still desperately clawed until there was nothing but concrete beneath his fingers.

He felt a tug on one of his pants legs, and caught sight of one of the TV cords by his foot, imperfect and frayed. His shoulders slumped and all the heat from his body ebbed away. "A frayed cord," he mumbled to himself, falling to the floor. "It was a frayed cord. What sort of idiot would mistake a frayed cord-" He broke into mad laughter, banging his head back against the wall. "Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! You idiot, you moron, how am I supposed to get back now? How am I…"

There was no way back.

"I knew it, I knew it," he choked out.

He was stuck forever. How- How was he going to survive?

If everyone refused to believe he existed, he'd rather be back in whatever scenario he imagined Yuma would have made on getting the Code. Everyone would be alive again, the Barians could live in the present time, and everyone would remember what Vector did and hate him. His grand scheme involved no survivors, but they'd all be alive, glaring down at him and thinking he was worse than trash. But it was okay, he could smile and put on his most sincere voice and say, "I'm sorry," and everyone would nod and forgive him.

Aah, who was he kidding? The only idiot who would forgive him with just one sorry was Yuma. He could apologize a thousand times, and nobody would ever believe him or forgive him, even if by some reason he actually wanted it. They'd hate him, good, he hated them all too, and cast him out to let him live his wretched human life without a single lifeline. It wasn't like he needed one. He definitely didn't, he could take care of himself all on his own. He'd done it before, he could do it again. So what if he was alone? He never had anyone to begin with.

He could maybe hate all the people here, but what was the point? Even if he screamed at Nasch about how much he hated every minute serving under him and cursed Yuma out for ruining every single one of his meticulously crafted plans, they wouldn't know what he was talking about. It was just about as effective as screaming at a reflection in a mirror. If lookalikes were all that he needed to vent, he would have made toys of every person he'd ever met and ripped them at the seams long, long ago.

They didn't remember him, so he didn't exist. No, he had never existed in this world. Here his hatred was nothing but heavy.

Which one was worse, a hell where his own existence was denied or a hell where he would be alone forever?

He had to tell someone about himself, about Vector, or else he wouldn't be able to pick up the pieces of his own memory this time around. Miracles don't happen twice. But- but who could he tell? Any rational person who'd hear his story would call him crazy, and then he'd be carted off to a mental hospital and shot full of downers until he stopped fighting. Then he'd have all of eternity to waste away with half genuine memories, a fate no better than slowly rusting away.

He hauled himself up, not bothering to clean the dirt off his body. He caught a sliver of the night sky through one of the windows, the Big Dipper twinkling, completely cut off from him. Completely cut off from all of them, unless Nasch was a really good liar. Nasch, there was Nasch-

Yeah, like he'd be stupid enough to tell Nasch. Ryoga. Whatever he called himself nowadays.

He could tell Yuma.

He really didn't want to see Yuma any more than he had to, but it was better him than anyone else. After all, Yuma had promised to protect him, right?

It was his last chance. It was no guarantee, he told himself as he began running, but it was the most solid percentage he was going to get. Yuma made a promise, and as much as he loathed to admit it, the kid tended to stick with his promises. As far as he could remember, Yuma was always positive to a fault, willing to put himself in danger to help even wretched people like Vector.

…_A_ Yuma, not this Yuma. They seemed alike enough, stupid optimism and all, but that didn't change the fact that a Yuma that didn't believe his story signed Vector's death warrant. As he slowed to a stop in front of that familiar house, he couldn't help but think of how it felt like walking to the chopping block. Fitting, he wasn't even able to execute himself properly as a prince, and if this time was the same…

The doorbell echoed miserably in his head. Twenty seconds and nobody. Another ten, still nobody. The waiting game was agonizing, it probably would have been less painful to have been shoved into a meat grinder.

A minute passed and just as Vector was about to finally give up, the front door swung open and there was Yuma, wielding a rice paddle**.**

"Hi, Yuma," he said, trying to sound even the slightest bit cheerful as he waved weakly.

Yuma's face twisted in horror as he flinched back with his eyes wide. "Sh-Shingetsu! What happened to your hands?"

His hands? Vector finally took the time to look at his fingertips, each one slicked crimson from the mess that were his nails. Some of them were still intact, but most had cracked and dripped blood towards his knuckles. A few miserably splintered nails were just barely clinging to his fingers, horribly peeled back so his raw skin peeked out.

Ah. No wonder it had been so breezy on the way here. "Oh, don't worry about it."

Yuma didn't listen and dragged Vector into the house, yelling for a first aid kit, all while on insisting that he be more careful. That dumb trash robot came and bandaged his hands, but he didn't really care for the gauze and splints. What did a few injuries mean if he was truly going to wither away?

He pulled his knees to his chest and looked past Yuma's hammock to the stars. Glittering Phecda caught his eye; his very own star betraying him by hiding a world and home completely beyond his reach now. One last gamble was all he had. Just one last time.

"Hey, Yuma."

"Yeah? Obomi didn't mess up your bandages, did she?"

"No, that's not it." He opened his mouth, but it felt like his tongue was coated with ash. "If- If I told you that I'm an alien, what would you do?"

"Whoa, that would be so cool, Shingetsu!" Yuma seemed to take Alit's revelation rather well all the way back then, so his reaction didn't surprise Vector at all.

So he told Yuma everything. He hated himself more and more with every truth that spilled out of his mouth, but who else would believe such a crazy story?

By the end of it, Yuma was completely speechless, and could do nothing but stare blankly at him. Vector couldn't have said he didn't expect it, but he could just feel those wide eyes denying him. Yuma opened his mouth, and Vector bit his lip. This was it, he was going to die. He only hoped Yuma would kill him quickly- he'd had enough of dissolving slowly in the day to day.

"No way- you mean something amazing like that actually happened?" Vector blinked dumbly as he watched Yuma break into a huge grin. "What a story! Nothing ever crazy like that happened here- Alit and the rest of them, aliens? Mihael's dad, a little kid? Me, on an adventure? Wow! But um, I can't help but feel a little sorry for you. You know, the you in the other world. Barian Vector you."

Vector grimaced, his fingers digging into his arms. "And why is that, Yuma?"

"Well, I'm not really sure about all of these weird cards and alien worlds, but your story sounded really…sad."

"Sad?" Vector scoffed, "It wasn't _sad._ Yeah, I never became a god, but there's worse things that could have happened. I could have been a dragon-obsessed idiot, for one, could you even imagine?"

"I would have never told Shingetsu this," Yuma suddenly said, "but I guess I can cheat for a bit, since you're not really him, right?" Vector nodded, picking at his bandages silently. "Well- Shark told me about you, well, about the you here, when you were both kids and hung out a lot. He said you were, his words, a really awful kid."

"Awful, huh?" Vector chuckled, "How like Nasch to say so. Although he's not wrong."

"Hey, Shark's a good guy!" Yuma protested with a pout, "But eh, anyway. Yeah, he said how you would always bully the other kids. You used to be mean to Shark and his sister all the time, but I guess Shark made friends with you regardless until you stopped. The Shingetsu I know was never extremely chipper like how you acted in your story."

He blinked in surprise. "He wasn't?"

"No, not really. He didn't seem _unhappy _exactly, but he was never running around and trying to help everyone at once. I think he could only manage a few nice things at once. A little sharp at times, but he's a good guy."

"And you were never supposed to tell Shingetsu that you knew that he wasn't always the way he was, huh. If he heard something like that, he'd probably start crying like the worthless fool he is. So why are you telling me this story?"

"Well, you were always alone, weren't you? They always say people get really mean when they're lonely. Still, you being someone completely different makes a little sense. I guess you were the one who yelled at Alit and the rest of them, right? You have been acting kind of strange this past month."

He nodded, badly concealing a frown. There was Yuma, spouting useless things as per the usual. It was fine being alone, he had survived for centuries all by himself. He was strongest when he was by himself, the other Emperors, his family- they would have all just dragged him down! He hadn't eroded in the storms and acid rains of the Barian World; he had lived, and he was damn proud of it. He was still alive, he was still struggling…he was only this alive when he was talking as himself. The great Lord Vector, reduced to a parasitic existence in a spotless world.

"Do I really deserve this?" Vector had been so immersed in his thoughts, he didn't notice the words coming out of his mouth until they were out in the open.

"What?"

"I've done nothing to deserve any of this."

Yuma crossed his arms and gave a low _hmmm_, "Well, would you do it again? Hurt people?"

"Of course," Vector burst into hysterical laughter, clutching his stomach, "Do you really think I'd change just by dying a few times? Do you really think I'd change in just a few weeks? I-di-ot! I'm the same person I always was!"

"Even here?"

Vector couldn't formulate a clever response to that.

"You shouldn't make that face, Shingetsu. Ah, er…Vector."

Vector rolled his eyes, "I'm not making _any _face, ingrate."

"Yes, you are. What are you thinking?"

He wanted to blurt out for Yuma to just shut his damn mouth already and mind his own business, but that was no longer an option. He was trapped, no, he'd trapped himself. "I'm fourteen."

Yuma blinked, an expectant smile hanging on his lips. "Yeah, but being fourteen's not so bad, right? Our parents can still make us obento and we don't have to worry too much about the cooking and cleaning!"

Vector heaved a sigh, a smirk curling up his lips for a second. "That's not what I meant, moooron. I've been fourteen for centuries." He died when he was that age, and even when he became a Barian, his human form hadn't aged a single second. Of course at the time, he hadn't known he was ever human back then, but he still remembered looking in the mirror, shocked at how he'd lost some of his height and most of his bulk.

"So that means that you're going to be fifteen this year then!"

"Yeah," Vector sighed, his voice growing glummer by the second. "Yeah, that's right. I'm going to be fifteen." He dropped his head into his hands, a broken giggle escaping through his lips. "Hey, Yuma?"

"Yeah? What's wrong?"

"I'm definitely in another world, right? You wouldn't be so cruel to wipe everyone else's memories but keep mine, would you? You wouldn't let me remember three lifetimes like this, would you, Yuma? I'm not still in Don Thousand's stomach, imagining you and everything here to keep myself alive…am I? This isn't a wild dream while I'm slowly digested inside all that Chaos, is it? You're actually here, aren't you? I haven't gone crazy for good… have I? You're real…right? Right…?"

Yuma's reply was as chipper as ever. "Of course I'm real!"

"Of course you'd say that, I knew you would…" Then Vector went completely still, like a marionette whose strings were suddenly cut, and slumped forward onto his knees.

Yuma nervously tried to reach towards him, but he drew back his hand. A hesitant smile flickered on his face and he rocked back on the floor. "Hey, do you want to have some duel rice?"

Vector just shook his head.

"Do you want to stay here for a bit?"

A hesitant nod.

"Okay, I'll be right here."

* * *

_That's it! Thank you for all your kind reviews and support!_


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